Throwing the Boutonnière - Take Two
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: Sherlock's second re-creation idea is ready to go. He plans a very romantic scenario, with an unexpected interruption. But Molly is not about to let her husband pout about it and insists he start over. Sensual, but not explicit.
1. Chapter 1

This scenario is dedicated to simplyshelbs16, who made a comment that I should re-create the scene, after I talked about the way Sherlock threw his flower to Janine, and wondered if it would have been for Molly if she had not been engaged.

* * *

Molly was almost at the end of her work day when she heard Sherlock's text alert. She went over to her phone and saw the message.

"Operation Sherlock Holmes reception scenario is go. Wait for further instructions."

Molly couldn't help feeling a ripple of excitement run through her. It had been several days since their last scenario. She and Sherlock had looked on Amazon to find a maternity dress that would be appropriate to wear at a wedding. **_Overkill just for a little play-acting? Maybe._** But one never knew. Perhaps she would need a maternity dress for a wedding or special occasion one day in the future.

Sadly, there had been no yellow floral print maternity dress that looked similar to the dress Molly had worn for John and Mary's wedding, but that wasn't really the point of the exercise anyway. The floor length gown they chose had a floral print, and was green with pink and cream roses. It was off the shoulder and had a train as well. The best thing was, it was cheap, so even if she never wore it again, it wouldn't be a waste of money. As soon as it arrived in the post, Molly had tried it on, and Sherlock had nodded approvingly.

"You look beautiful." And she felt beautiful in it.

Sherlock had ordered a boutonnière from the sane florist they had ordered their own wedding flowers from. With his excellent memory recall, she was sure he had been able to perfectly duplicate the one he had worn for John and Mary's wedding. Apparently he had picked it up today.

Another text alert sounded and Molly looked at it.

"When you get home, go into the bathroom and get ready. Dress is in there, plus a bow for your hair."

Molly smirked. He wanted her to wear a bow in her hair, just like she had done before. She texted him back with a smiley face.

She was just getting ready to leave when another text came in.

"Bedroom is off-limits."

 ** _Intriguing. What did her adorable husband have up his sleeve?_** Whatever it was, it was sure to be wonderful.

One final text came through as Molly was leaving the hospital. She waited until she was seated on the Tube to read it.

"Don't forget to use the loo. We don't want any inconvenient bladder urges to interrupt our scenario." Molly chuckled at that, which earned her stares from a few other Tube riders.

At home Molly called out to Sherlock, "Are you here?"

"Where else would I be? Didn't you read my texts? Don't come in," came his response from the bedroom.

"Alright," she responded, going to the bathroom. Sherlock had hung her dress from the shower curtain rail. She took off her clothes, including shoes and socks and put on the dress. They never wore shoes or socks for these scenarios inside the flat. Too much trouble to take them off later.

After using the loo, per Sherlock's instructions, **_and good ones they were too,_** Molly left the bathroom and stood at the bedroom door.

"Sherlock, where am I sitting? Or am I standing? How are we going to do this?"

His rich baritone voice cane through the door, thrilling her senses as usual. "You were standing at the reception, but I don't want you to over-exert yourself, so just sit on the sofa. You can stand once I've finished playing my violin."

Molly rolled her eyes at his over-protectiveness, but really, she was glad of it. She obediently made her way into the sitting room, sat on the sofa, and waited.

She heard the bedroom door open and suddenly, the sound of violin music filled the air. Molly had been expecting Sherlock to play the piece he had written for John and Mary's wedding. She was touched to hear it was instead the beautiful piece Sherlock had composed for her, for their own wedding day.

When Sherlock entered the room, she caught her breath. He was wearing what looked like the exact same ensemble he had worn for the wedding of his best friend, tailcoat and all. **_He must have hired it,_** she thought. Her heart started to pound. He looked so gorgeous, and his violin playing was incredible. Molly felt quite light-headed. And his eyes locked on hers, not straying once as he played the piece to perfection, just for her.

A knock sounded on the door, and a head popped in.

"Hello dears," said Mrs. Hudson. "I heard the lovely music and..." Her voice trailed off, as she took in the sight of Sherlock in his elegant attire, and Molly in her long gown.

"Oh..." breathed the woman. "I'm interrupting something, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," said Sherlock rather sharply.

Molly stood. "It's okay Mrs. Hudson. I should have locked the door if I didn't want us to have company. I'm getting quite as bad at it as Sherlock is."

"Please just go away now," said Sherlock, trying to push the elderly woman out the door. Molly gave him a stern look. "Bit Not Good?" he questioned a bit too innocently.

"You got it in one," she answered, turning to Mrs. Hudson. "I apologize for my husband's behaviour. You know Sherlock. He tends to be single-minded about things when he has a plan of action."

"Yes. I apologize, Mrs. Hudson. I was not anticipating an interruption. Would you mind terribly much if my wife and I can get on with it?"

The landlady gave him an assessing look. "I'll go. I think I might put on some loud music too, just to make sure I don't hear any uh, sounds of passion coming from your flat. I'm an old woman you know. I might get heart palpitations."

Molly blushed furiously while Sherlock snorted. "The day you are fazed by the sounds of a little lovemaking is the day you leave this earth behind."

Mrs. Hudson smiled. "You may be right. Nevertheless, I feel the need to turn up the volume on my radio to drown out your...violin playing, shall we say?"

"You do that," growled Sherlock, ushering her unceremoniously out of the door, then locking it securely.

Molly didn't know whether to be highly embarrassed or laugh at her husband's impatience.

Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "Everything is ruined now."

Molly went to him and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Of course it's not ruined. You can just start over. But before you do, I just want to tell you how incredibly sexy you look."

"You think I'm sexy?" He brightened.

"Of course you are - sexy, hot, gorgeous, and very tempting besides," she told her ridiculous husband, offering him a chaste kiss on the lips this tine. She did not want to let things get out of hand before they could actually finish their little scene, if indeed Sherlock was willing to start over.

Loud music started to play from downstairs. **_Some kind of heavy metal? Who would have thought it of Mrs. Hudson?_**

"Well, Mr. Holmes, are you going to take advantage of our relative privacy from being heard, or are you going to just stand there?" she asked with what she hoped was a sexy pout.

"Molly, don't look at me that way, or I'll take you straight to the bedroom and scenario be damned!"

"Sherlock! Language!" said Molly in mock offense. He tried to curb his language and be a good Christian husband, but once in awhile he slipped up and that was okay. She didn't expect him to be perfect. And he only swore when he was passionate about something, or like the time he leaned down to get something off the floor then banged his head pretty hard on an open cupboard door. Yup, that had elicited the "f" bomb. He had looked at her in acute embarrassment, but she had laughed it off. She was no prude. She had even been moved by anger and fear to say, "For Christ's sake Sherlock, this is not a game," when he was killing himself with drugs in order to get at Culverton Smith.

No, Sherlock wasn't perfect, but he made every effort to be as close to a model husband as he could be, and she appreciated that fact.

Molly sat back on the sofa and put her hands in her lap. "I believe you were playing my song?"

Sherlock took up his violin again and began to play. Surprisingly, the music, at least to her mind, completely obliterated the thumping drum and bass sounds that were emanating from Mrs. Hudson's flat.

Molly sighed happily when he had finished and stood up. "I'd gladly listen to you play that for me every day," she said, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

Having put down his violin, Sherlock was busily unpinning his boutonnière from his jacket. "For you, Molly," he said softly, tossing it gently to her, and she caught it.

"Thank you, Sherlock. This is so...unexpected."

He walked towards her and lifted her hand to his lips. "I've been looking at you all night, Molly. May I have this dance?"

Bringing her closer, he began to waltz her around the room, humming "The Blue Danube," to keep them in time. He stopped humming and waltzing. Then he lifted Molly's chin. "I've been wanting to kiss you all night. May I do so now?"

Molly felt heat rising within her at her his words. If he'd really said those words to her at the wedding reception, if she hadn't been engaged to Tom, where might it have led? She nodded her assent and Sherlock kissed her.

He kissed her as if it was their first time, gently pressing his lips to hers with a closed mouth. Then he applied slightly more pressure, opening his own mouth and inviting her to do the same. Molly's mouth opened beneath his, her arms went around his neck, and she held him, even as he moved his hands to encircle her waist. He could not wrap his arms around her as tightly as he had once done, due to Molly's expanding girth, but it still felt so good.

Sherlock raised his head slightly to murmur, "Molly Hooper, you have the most kissable lips, ever. I could find myself lost in you." He dipped his head once again and resumed kissing her. This time his lips burned with urgent need. Molly could feel her heart thumping, matching the rhythm of the beat from Mrs. Hudson's flat.

Sherlock's hands went to her shoulders and massaged them. Molly was very glad of the off-the-shoulder neckline, which afforded him access to her bare skin. She could feel her knees growing weak. Massages always did that to her. She vaguely wondered if she would have been so easily seduced if Sherlock had tried this before they were married, this combination of seductive kissing and massage. Yes, Sherlock had done a similar combination during their engagement, but he had obviously been holding himself back. This was so...sensual.

He moved his lips from hers and traced a line down her neck, then to the point of one shoulder, repeating the action to kiss his way along her other shoulder and Molly started to tremble with need.

"Molly," he whispered in his deep voice, looking at her with eyes that were dilated with the desire he felt, which undoubtedly mirrored her own. "I don't want to play anymore. I'm going to carry you to the bedroom now. Close your eyes and don't open them until I say so."

Molly looked at her handsome husband in surprise. This was something new.

"Come on, love. Close your eyes," he said insistently.

Molly did as she was told, and she felt him lift her up. Being held by him made her feel so safe - his arms were so strong, so secure.

As they reached the door of the bedroom, Molly could smell flowers, roses. It was a rather odd thing to smell in the middle of winter. Had Sherlock sprayed some perfume?

He released the arm that was holding her legs aloft so she could stand. That rose smell was pervading the air.

Then he told her, "Open your eyes, my darling."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** what does Sherlock have in store for Molly.

What did you think of Mrs. Hudson's surprise appearance and Sherlock's reaction? How about her putting on loud music?

Updated for corrections and better writing flow 6/23/18


	2. Flowers for Molly

_Earlier that day_

Sherlock was feeling rather pleased with himself. The florist had called to say his order was ready. So off he went to pick it up.

He arrived home with the boutonnière, which was an exact replica of the one he had worn for John and Mary's wedding. He also had two dozen roses. They had been expensive, being out of season, but money really was not an issue when it came to pleasing his wife.

Sherlock had also stopped by the place where he had hired his suit for John's wedding. He found one that looked identical that he could hire for a couple nights. The clerk gave him a strange look at the odd timing for hiring a suit, but didn't ask any rude questions. A sale was a sale, after all. Actually, Sherlock had considered wearing his own wedding suit, which had been tailored especially for him, but the colour was all wrong, and the point of this re-creation was to make it look like he was the best man at John's wedding.

Sherlock hung up the suit at home and got to work. He took the roses and carefully plucked every petal from them, littering the bed with the petals. He liked finding new ways to show his love for Molly, and thought the combination of throwing her his rose, then using rose petals on their bed would be a grand gesture. The mother of his unborn child deserved nothing less than the best.

Pulling off the flower petals was rather an arduous process and a slightly dangerous one, when he manage to prick himself several times with thorns from the stems. Luckily it was his bow hand, otherwise pressing the strings on his violin might become an issue.

Sherlock brought his violin into the bedroom, so he could play it as he went to greet his wife. Then he took Molly's new maternity dress and hung the coat hanger with the garment from the shower rail. She would not be permitted into the bedroom until it was the right time.

The last step was to let Molly know this was the day for the scenario.

Sherlock sent the texts, received her confirmation smiley face emoji and proceeded to dress in his suit. He was rather excited about doing this. The early scenarios had been Molly's idea. The last one about "having dinner" and this one were his.

'He thought back to that day, John's reception. He remembered clearly how beautiful Molly had looked in her yellow floral print dress with the big bow in her hair. If it hadn't been for that ridiculous poor substitute fiancé, he'd have told her she looked beautiful. After all, best friends were allowed to compliment each other, and even though they hadn't ever labelled their friendship at the time, that was the way he had thought of her. She was the only woman who really knew him, even then. Without really thinking about it, she been his Molly, his pathologist.

When he had thrown the rose to Janine, his first impulse had been to toss it to his best friend, best girl friend. She had been right next to the other woman. However, at the last second, he'd changed his mind, not wanting to rock the boat between Molly and the meat dagger theorist.

He would have asked his best friend, girl friend, to dance as well if she'd been alone. He'd definitely get that dance with her this time.

There was one last thing he had to do before Molly got home. Sherlock went to the playlist on his phone, selected a song, then hit pause, so he could easily turn it on when the time came.

A ripple of excitement ran through Sherlock when Molly came home and called out to him. It was almost time for the Act to begin.

He could hear Molly in the bathroom, using the loo as he'd commanded and getting herself ready. He hoped she liked the bow he'd found for her to wear in her hair. It wasn't an exact match, but the size of it was proportional to the previous yellow bow and wouldn't look too out of place with her maternity dress. Pregnant Molly was so...exquisite. His heart gave a great thump as he thought about their baby being nurtured by her womb. He was excited at the prospect of being a father, but terrified as well. He really hoped he wouldn't be rubbish at parenting.

Sherlock answered Molly's question through the door, and after that, he knew it was time. He carefully lit several candles he had situated about the room. He calculated how long it would take Molly to get positioned on the sofa. Then he took up his violin and opened the bedroom door. Instead of playing the original tune, he decided to change things a little and play Molly's piece.

When he caught sight of his beautiful wife, he almost stopped playing, she looked so breath-taking, but he continued to play, determined to complete the scenario. His eyes locked on hers.

Unfortunately, they were rudely interrupted. He knew Mrs. Hudson meant well, but did she have to choose this moment? He felt embarrassed, all dressed up, being caught in the middle of another scenario. He hadn't meant to be rude, not really. And the poor old dear had obligingly turned on some very loud music downstairs. It took a few minutes of teasing and the tempting looks from Molly to get back into things, and the game was back on.

Waltzing with her was wonderful, kissing her bare shoulders was torment of the best kind, and picking her up in his arms to take her to the bedroom was even better.

Sherlock watched Molly's face as he said, "Open your eyes, my darling."

Her reaction was everything he had hoped.

Molly gasped. "Sherlock! This is...this is amazing. I've heard of flower petals on a bed, but it isn't something I would ever have expected in a million years - and candles too!" Her hands tangled through his hair and he revelled in it, and her kiss. His heart started to pound. How was it that the touch of her lips alone was enough to drive him wild for her? He groaned, feeling that familiar surge of wild passion. There was something he needed to do before he lost all control - **_what was it?_**

Molly's lips were drawing him into an abyss. Vaguely he recollected something about music. **_Violin? No that wasn't it._** Finally he remembered.

He pulled his head back, away from her inviting lips. "I...hold on...I need to do something." He strode over to his phone and touched the home button. The music from downstairs could still be felt, but not heard, and Sherlock pressed the play button.

The strains of "I Found," started and Molly smiled at him. "Are you trying to seduce me with this music?"

Sherlock returned to her and traced a finger along her cheek. "It's not seduction when you want me as much as I want you."

"How do you know I want you?" she asked, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

He kissed the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck. "Are you finding it hard to control your breathing, my lovely wife?" he asked silkily, before moving his hands to massage her shoulders.

"Yes...oh, I need to sit down."

She sank onto the petal strewn bed, while Sherlock followed, sitting beside her and swapping his hands so he was now massaging her from behind, soothing all the knots of tension from her day at work.

Molly melted back against him with a moan of pleasure that his body instantly reacted to.

"Oh, Sherlock, that feels so good. You have such magical fingers. You know I can't resist you when you do that."

As he continued to massage her, he bent his head to kiss her neck, eliciting more sounds of pleasure.

The chorus of the song started, and Sherlock sang softly in Molly's ear, "I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me, talk some sense to me."

"Oh, Sherlock," sighed Molly. "I love it when you sing to me."

"Mmm. I like it better when you sing to me, the way you did on our wedding day."

"One day we'll have to do a duet." She gasped in surprise as Sherlock slid his hands underneath her bodice to cup her breasts.

"Someday, but not now. Now I'm going to make love to my wife and take full advantage of the privacy accorded from that horrid loud music emanating from Mrs. Hudson's flat."

She arched back against him. "You can't even hear the music from here."

"I know, but she can, which means she won't hear...us."

He flipped Molly around then, pressing her gently onto her back. He lavished kisses on her, sliding down her top to expose her breasts and kiss them until she clutched his curls and moaned. Her questing fingers released the single button on his tailcoat, then worked on the waistcoat buttons, blindly unbuttoning them as he continued his kisses, dipping to the valley between her breasts and back up to her always delectable mouth.

He shrugged out of the confining material, keeping his lips fastened on Molly's. She loosened his tie and began working desperately at his shirt buttons. She moved her mouth away to say in agitation, "Too many damn buttons," and the detective chuckled.

"Language, Molly," he murmured, having mercy on her at last and pulling off his tie and shirt. His breath hitched as she ran her hands along the planes of his chest. Her fingers inflamed him, tickling his skin with her light touch.

"Are you going to punish me for saying that word?" she asked softly, still trailing her hands back and forth along his chest. Then he sucked in his breath as her hands reached lower to unfasten his trousers. "I think we'll leave your punishment for another time. Don't want to ruin the mood," he said huskily.

He stood and allowed her to finish undressing him, while he mused that this wasn't quite the way he had expected the scenario to turn out. Wasn't he supposed to be the seducer? Instead, his very adventurous and seductive wife was doing the honours.

"I have a secret," Molly told him, giving a rather wicked smile.

"And what might that be, my love?" he questioned her with a raised eyebrow. **_What kind of secret could she be keeping from him?_**

"I'm not wearing any knickers."

He groaned and yet another wave of desire hit him full force. Oh, she really was his naughty little angel. The sight of her in her demure dress, with the big bow still in her hair was driving him crazy, especially now that he knew she was not only bra-less, due to the off shoulder design of the dress, but knickerless as well.

She scooted backwards so she was fully on the bed and extended her arms. "Come to me, sweetheart."

Sherlock joined Molly among the flower petals strewn on the bed and began to kiss her with slow, sensual kisses, trailing his fingers along her body. This time it was her turn to whimper against his mouth. His caresses drew a response from her that increased his own need, and when he finally claimed her body for his own, he was glad of that music from downstairs that prevented Mrs. Hudson from hearing their mutual sounds of passion and love.

When Molly lay in his arms afterwards, and she was still wearing her dress while he was completely naked, Sherlock grumbled, "I feel at a distinct disadvantage, my love. Can you please get naked with me so we can cuddle properly? You know how I like skin to skin contact."

Molly grinned. "I'll just dash to the loo first."

Upon her return she complied with his request, snuggling against him. She had taken the opportunity to finally remove the bow, and her hair fell softly around her shoulders in loose waves. The scent of roses, many of them now crushed, permeated the room. Sherlock kissed his wife's hair where her head lay resting on his chest. He rested his hand on her rounded belly, tracing circles which made her giggle. His thoughts turned again in wonder to their baby girl who would be entering the world in a little over three months.

Would he have imagined THIS scenario a year earlier? No. But he didn't need to re-create this because it was real. Sherlock Holmes, loving husband, soon to be father. Life was good.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Thanks to ad-iuficium for her candle comment. I added those in at the last moment LOL

Do you think Sherlock would have thrown his flower originally to Molly if not for Tom?

Isn't Molly naughty? I adore writing their playfulness, in knowing their absolute commitment to each other because they are married.

I hope you enjoy the sensuality without the explicit, although I have to admit, I am progressively getting "spicier" with it. Hopefully still keeping it refined though!

All feedback appreciated.

Updated for corrections and better flow 6/23/2018


End file.
